Dave Gilmour @ Bridgewater Hall

I WOULD love to say that the moment David Gilmour took to the stage at the Bridgewater Hall on Friday was electrifying; that the ensuing applause as he launched into Breathe deafening; that the opening of this monumental show was suffused with all the anticipatory magic one would expect from a rare performance by one of musicés greatest living legends.

I WOULD love to say that the moment David Gilmour took to the stage at the Bridgewater Hall on Friday was electrifying; that the ensuing applause as he launched into Breathe deafening; that the opening of this monumental show was suffused with all the anticipatory magic one would expect from a rare performance by one of musicés greatest living legends.

Sadly, I canét. Not because it wasnét é it surely was - but having been vainly searching for a nearby parking space before biting the bullet and heading to the NCP, I arrive fifteen minutes late, breathlessly taking my seat at the end of a row whose awestruck occupants are captivated by the diminutive figure in the centre of an enormous equipment-laden stage.

But Gilmourés presence extends far beyond his physicality, and he fills the hall with a quietly assertive charisma that denotes his legendary status. Addressing the crowd in cut-glass, middle-class tones, he brings a stunning, all-too-brief Dark Side of the Moon medley to a close with the playfully wry comment éjust to get you goingé, and announces that the first half of the show will be dedicated solely to his latest album, On An Island, to be played in its entirety.

Electic

The album, released in March on his 60th birthday, is a poignant, eclectic study on élife, death, and everything in betweené and gives Gilmour plenty of scope to showcase his remarkable talent. During the next hour he moves around the stage with the comfortable, easy manner of someone pottering around their own front room.

When legendary performers David Crosby and the bare-footed Graham Nash wander in to lend a hand on harmonies, it is as though they have happily stumbled across the best room at a party.

Gilmour picks up and plays instruments as though on a whim, including the saxophone and the banjo; he speaks little but fills the room with his inimitable singing voice.

Humbling

And of course, he plays the guitar. Ités a humbling experience, being in the presence of a musician who has such respect for, and command of, his instrument.

There is none of the bravado typical of modern bands; Gilmourés mastery of the guitar is quietly executed with the self-assurance of one who has no need to paper over the cracks with posturing and play-acting. His guitar swoops, soars and cries, defining it, in the right hands, as one of the most expressive, emotive instruments.

Following a brief interval, the second half of the show kicks off with Shine On You Crazy Diamond, resplendent with stunning harmonies and an impressive light display; naturally, the crowd are beside themselves.

More Pink Floyd classics follow; an amazing Wish You Were Here eclipsed only by the encoreés Comfortably Numb, led by Richard Wright.

The show is nothing short of epic at more than three hours long, and by the end it is stiflingly hot, and foggy with dry ice.

But this does nothing to deter the grins, shrieks and excited, babbling chatter of the exiting crowd, who clearly feel they have just witnessed a momentous, unforgettable performance. Which, of course, they have.